


Coalescence

by Oryx_Gazella



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: DHMIS, F/M, Padlock, please stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oryx_Gazella/pseuds/Oryx_Gazella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's raining, and Paige and Tony have differing ideas on how to spend the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coalescence

**Author's Note:**

> BEEP  
> HEYO  
> GOTTA WARN U FOR BLOOD AND BROKEN BONES AND DEATH  
> TONYS A BIG DUMB IDIOT WHINY BABY AND HES ALL GRUMPY JESUS CHRIST I HATE HIM

At exactly 5:30, Tony woke up to the sound of rain pattering against the roof.   The rising sun wasn’t illuminating the room as it usually did; he reached out to the lamp sitting atop his nightstand and clicked it on.  He sat up and stretched, back cracking in a satisfying way.

He climbed out of bed and walked across his room, the slightly chilled air raising goosebumps on his bare skin.  Tony stood in front of the window, assessing the day; little beads of condensation were growing on the inside of the glass.  Gloomy clouds stretched out in every direction he could see, and he’d most likely be hearing thunder soon.  He scowled.

In general, Tony disliked rain.  The noise it produced was distracting, particularly during storms, and leaving the house at all carried the risk of getting his clothes and hair soaked.  Clouds darkened the sky when it should rightfully be light out, creating an unpleasant disconnect between what time it _was_ and what time it _appeared_ to be.

However, there _was_ one definite benefit to the rain; _it kept Paige occupied_.

During almost every storm, Paige would abandon any attempt at attacking him in favor of sitting by a window or basking outside in the downpour.   It was ridiculous, a waste of time, and entirely unproductive…but the importance of Paige’s productivity was insignificant compared to his.  

            It was still too early to tell if she’d be wasting her entire day on her trivial little _interest_.  The lazy creature usually slept until _noon;_ sometimes even later.  Hopefully the rain would last until she dragged herself out of bed.

            In the meantime, Tony had the house all to himself, since their roommates were off on vacation. 

            Tony got dressed; just because he wasn’t going to leave the house today didn’t mean he could allow himself to look disheveled.  His eyes moved to the mess of sheets and blankets on his bed as he straightened his coat out.  Part of him insisted it was pointless to make his bed; why spend the time to put something in order for the sole purpose of messing it up again? 

            On the other hand, a messy bed looked so _out of place_ in his otherwise pristine room.  Begrudgingly, quickly, he made his bed. 

            Tony flipped the lights as he moved through the house.  Paige might enjoy stumbling around in the dark, but he’d rather not have to cautiously gauge every footstep in the event that she had dragged furniture around to trip him.           

            The kitchen was perfectly still, perfectly silent.  Everything was in its rightful place; undisturbed by Paige rummaging around in the cabinets or hurried roommates rushing to get to work on time.  

            It had been… _necessary_ to move his coffee up to the top shelf, in the back of the cabinet.  He had briefly considered giving it up; Paige seemed to enjoy targeting the drink a bit too much, but no, he refused to let _her_ alter his schedule.  In all likelihood, she’d soon decide that poisoning his coffee again would be too _boring_. 

            He set the machine to brew.  He stood in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and listening to the soothing ticking of clocks, counting down the exact time until his drink was ready.  There had been some difficulty in finding a coffeemaker that brewed in a consistent, predictable amount of time, but he refused to accept anything less.  Four minutes and fifty-six seconds, now. 

            Two of the clocks in the living room were out of sync, he could hear it.  Paige’s doing, most likely.  Tony dropped one cube of sugar into his mug, not stirring it.  He’d have to fix them, retiming everything and coaxing them back in line.

            Tony headed into the living room, cup in hand.  He wanted to know if the rain would continue through the day, and the weather was on right now.  Of course, that irritating host usually prattled on before actually giving any information, wasting an average of six and a half minutes on useless anecdotes in an attempt to seem likable; 5:51 should contain the information he needed.

            Tony hunted down the out-of-sync clocks in the three minutes he had.  The Hermle on the shelf and the Seth Thomas on the wall.  Tony scowled at Paige’s smudgy little fingerprints on their surfaces.

            He flicked on the television, just in time for the forecast.  The rain would persist through the day, likely intensifying.  _Perfect_.  He turned the TV off, refusing to waste any more time on it.  Important things needed to be accomplished, and Paige wouldn’t be interrupting him.

            He gathered up the tampered-with clocks, getting to work right away.  Paige might’ve damaged than more than he could see, and he wanted to open them up to at least check inside.  Then he had a mantel clock to repair; not one of his own this time, but rather a piece an auction dealer had come to him with.  Apparently the owner of an antique store he frequented had referred him, and Tony was more than willing to help someone with similar interests.  The money he had been offered didn’t hurt, either.  A myriad of other projects were lying around the room, all to be tackled in a precise order.

            Two hours and forty-seven minutes had passed when a loud rumble of thunder broke the monotony of the rain, and pulled him out of his concentration.  He heard Paige’s bed creak twenty seconds later; was she awake now?  It was early for her, chances were she’d just go back to sleep.

            Tony had no choice but to memorize her schedule; or rather, her lack of schedule.   Associating events with time was involuntary for him, and he was endlessly trying to find a pattern in her actions, if only to more effectively kill her when he had the chance.

            Upstairs, Paige got out of bed; unusual at this hour.  Was it for the rain?  Or was she just getting up to attack him?

            It had taken some practice to be able to hear her moving around the house.  Paige stalked around in near-silence no matter what her intentions were.  She was leaving her room now, descending the stairs, walking through the kitchen…

            Paige gently pushed the door to the workshop open.  He turned to look at her; hair still disheveled from sleep, bleary-eyed.  She was leaning against the doorframe in an oversized painter’s smock that served as pajamas, and appearing deceivingly docile.  Her laziness was _appalling_. 

“I’m shocked you managed to get down the stairs without tripping.” 

            She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm.  “Shouldn’t you be in a better mood?  You’ve had the house to yourself for _hours_.”

            “And now I don’t.”

            “It’s raining, you know.”  She murmured, stifling a yawn.

            “Yes; shouldn’t you be off _enjoying it_?”

            “I don’t think you’ve _ever_ listened to the rain with me…” 

            _Is she even listening to me?_   He wondered, irritation steadily rising.“No, I haven’t.” 

            “Maybe you should try it.”

            Tony snorted.  She must be delusional.  Even for her, this was a pathetic attempt to lure him into a trap.   “ _Why_ would I want to do that?”

            “It’s inspiring.  It’s calming.  It’s something new to you.”

            He glanced back to the pocketwatch he had been tinkering with.  “You go ahead first, I’ll be _right out_.”

“I’ll see how you feel later.”  Paige’s soft footsteps receded from the room.  She had left the door open, as usual.

The rain had put her in an odd mood, it seemed; or maybe it was her drowsiness.  Maybe it was simply her typical unpredictability.

Trying to decipher her actions wasn’t worth it; he was glad to hear her go back upstairs, get dressed, and go outside.  With any luck, she’d _stay_ there.

  It was only seven minutes later that Tony got up to get more coffee.  He peered through the kitchen window; Paige was sitting outside on the grass, eyes closed, face turned up to the sky, her hair getting drenched and beginning to lie flat.  He watched her for a moment, sipping his coffee.

Looking at her now, she seemed so defenseless, so lost in her own head that she was completely unaware of her surroundings.  He could imaging himself sneaking outside, footsteps hidden by the noisy rainfall until he was right behind her, and slitting her throat before she even turned to look at him. 

That was impossible, he knew.  Even if it _were_ his turn, he’d fail miserably.  Paige needed to be taken by surprise; she was suspicious and perceptive, her attention snapping to the slightest noise with something sharp always right at her fingertips. 

But…she was also at least a foot shorter than he was.  He took every chance he could to tower over her when they were arguing; sometimes she even seemed to be intimidated by it.  That was rare, though.  For the most part, she simply straightened herself out and met his stare when he tried it…or just punched him hard in the stomach and laughed. 

Her diminutive stature also provided the added benefit of allowing her to be easily picked up.  She was fully able to carry him as well; his dead body didn’t _levitate_ onto the roof or into the trees, but it wasn’t like she could effectively lift him off his feet while he was conscious and angry.  

Oh, she _hated_ that.  He enjoyed having something so guaranteed to infuriate her at his disposal; it was _just enough_ to make her angry, but not provoke any serious damage to his clocks.  He could just _hear_ that indignant, furious shriek, accompanied by those little fists slamming onto his back and a flurry of curses.  It was…difficult to remember just how dangerous Paige could be when she was slung over his shoulder like that.  

It was difficult to remember how dangerous she was right now, too.  Tony studied her from the relative safety of the kitchen.  Eyes closed, expression softened, body relaxed; it almost looked like she was sleeping.  Or dead.  But certainly not someone so capable of gleefully and methodically flaying someone alive.

That kind of underestimation that had gotten him killed more than once.  Paige was deceptively strong, and admittedly faster than he was.  She was also very _inventive_ with poison.  For a while, he assumed her hatred of repetition would mean that once she targeted something, it wouldn’t happen again; as it turned out, her love of drugging him outweighed that particular quirk of hers.

Outside, Paige opened her eyes.

Tony turned away from the window so quickly he nearly spilled his coffee. 

She couldn’t have seen him.  Her eyes would’ve been too out of focus from the rain.  She wasn’t even looking at the window.  Tony hurried back to the workroom, angry that he had caught himself standing around wasting time. 

Thirty four minutes later, the back door opened, and Paige strolled inside.  Tony frowned at the thought of the water that was surely dripping all over the floor from her drenched clothing.  

…Why was she getting closer?             

Was she coming to fight him?  Was she coming to mock him? 

She stepped into the room.  He could hear the patter of water hitting the floor with every move.  He glared over his shoulder.                 

Paige was absolutely soaked, her dress and hair hanging limply.  She didn’t even glance at him as she headed straight for her side of the room, digging around in her desk.  She slipped a small palate, paints, and brushes into some hidden pocket in her dress, and turned to gather up a blank canvas from the corner, up along with a folding easel.  Tony scrutinized her every move carefully; suspicious.  Just because she hadn’t been aggressive so far didn’t mean he could let his guard down. 

Without a word, she began to leave the room.  Paige stopped in the doorframe, and turned to him.

“Come outside with me.”  She tilted her head, almost playful.

“No.”                       

Her pouting was tangible. “Why _not_?”

Tony sighed harshly.  He wasn’t in the mood to be distracted like this.  “Because, Paige, even if this somehow _isn’t_ some feeble attempt at a trap, it’s still completely pointless.  I have things that need to get done, unlike _you_.”

“You don’t have to stay for long.  Just come out and listen to the rain for a little while.”

“I can hear the rain from right here, and I’m not getting soaked _or_ wasting time.” 

“But you’re not _listening_ to it.”  She insisted. 

“If there’s a difference, I don’t care about it.”  He turned his back to her, hopefully conveying that the conversation was over. 

 A frustrated huff, and she was gone. 

He was under no illusion that she was about to stop trying, though.  There was no doubt that he’d be seeing her again, begging him to stand outside and listen to water hitting the ground while she drove a knife into his chest.

He began to disassemble a broken watch, delicately lining up tiny gears and springs, trying to pinpoint what was malfunctioning.  He tuned out the uneven sound of rainfall and let his mind wander while he made those practiced, expert motions. 

Though he was annoyed that Paige had cut his last fight short, even he had to admit it wasn’t necessarily her fault.  If anything, her will to survive was impressive; he just wished it _wasn’t_.  He’d have to _wait_ until he could try again, and this time he knew that keeping her awake wouldn’t work.  As much as he’d like to try poisoning her, that was dangerous.  He wasn’t as knowledgeable about proper dosage as Paige, and a mistake could easily kill her outright.  No, he’d have to find something else to subdue her enough…  

Tony opened a drawer, searching for a necessary pair of pliers; they were gone.  His eyes narrowed; _he_ hadn’t misplaced them.  _Paige had_.

The idea of her rifling around in his desk…

Tony stood, once again wishing it was his turn to start a fight.  He had a spare pair of pliers in his room, at least. 

Leaving the windowless workshop, Tony realized just how dark the sky had become.  Paige had turned all the lights off on her last trip inside, it seemed.  She had also left trails of rainwater all through the hallway to the kitchen, and Tony had to step around the puddles for fear of slipping.  If he fell and cracked his head open, she’d never let him live it down.

He looked outside as he passed by the window; the easel sat unattended; Paige was probably off getting lost in the woods somewhere.  The painted canvas was blurring in the rain, colors mixing chaotically as they ran across the surface.  The effect was clearly intentional, but Tony found it ridiculous.  There was no way to predict how the rain would alter her work, and she wasn’t even here to monitor the painting; how could she _stand_ it?

He shook his head as he ascended the stairs.  Unreasonable creature.  Tony unlocked his door, still thinking about how absurd Paige was as he pushed it open and flicked on his light.

 _Paige was lying on his bed_.

“ _Get the hell off of there_!”  He snarled, immediately furious at the dark water seeping into his blankets.

She sat up at his voice, propping herself up by her elbows.  A smirk pulled at her mouth. 

“Whhhy?” She dragged the word out, almost singing.

“You’re getting my bed all wet!”  He stormed into the room.

“You can put your blankets into the dryer, don’t be so dramatic.” 

“ _Get_.  **_Off_**.”  He ordered, ready to grab her and yank her to her feet.

“Oh, _fine_.” She climbed off his bed, standing up.  “I just wanted to try inviting you one more time.” 

Tony slowly approached her, staring her down.  “The answer is _no_.”  His voice was quiet, mocking.  “The answer has been no _all day_.  The answer _will continue to be no_ for the foreseeable future, unless you forcibly drug me.”

Paige glared up at him, hands balling into fists.  Tony internally braced himself for the incoming punch.

Instead she exhaled harshly and turned to the side. 

“Why can’t you just fucking enjoy anything?”  She muttered, walking around him.

Tony didn’t watch her leave, instead turning to his desk, quietly smug about successfully driving her out of his room.  He leaned down, opening the drawer for his spare tools.

He didn’t hear her.

The cold knife sunk fast and deep into his lower back, making Tony jerk up, screaming.  He whipped around, reaching across his body for his sword.

Paige’s black fingers closed tight around his wrist, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood.   She pulled his arm straight out towards her.

Her elbow came down as her knee came up.       

Tony’s arm snapped easily, and he heard two loud, distinct cracks in that surreal moment of clarity before the sensation hit him.

She let go, allowing him to reel away in pain, sword arm now useless; he felt the bone jutting out of his skin scraped nauseatingly against the cloth of his sleeve.  As he moved, he became aware that the knife was _still in his back_. 

 _At least she’s disarmed_.  He thought as he backed away, groping blindly with his left hand for the handle.

Paige rushed forward, locking one hand around the back of his neck and using the other to punch him in the abdomen.  He tried to shove her away with his usable hand, the motion clumsy with pain and ineffective. 

She giggled, and it was then he knew she hadn’t _punched_ him.

Tony looked down just in time to see her give a quick twist and pull the blade out, a thin spray of blood following it.  She threw it to the floor, bringing her hands up to grab onto his coat and force him backwards. 

His boots slipped on the water-drenched floor, unable to steady himself enough to resist the shove.  The back of his legs hit the windowsill, and Paige pushed a little further, lifting him slightly to sit on the edge and lean dangerously out the open window. 

 _He should’ve thought about how she had gotten into his room_.  He _knew_ he never heard a door open, or heard her footsteps up the stairs.  His room had been locked, and Paige wouldn’t have bothered relocking it for his benefit.

Tony desperately gripped onto the rain-slickened wood.  Blood gushed from his midsection, and the blade still stuck in his back sliced through more and more muscle with every twitch.  His broken arm had bumped against the wall, wracking his mind with agony.

Paige pulled him forward slightly, back inside, and stood on her toes. 

Her lips pressed to his in a hard, near-painful kiss.  Tony responded, about to bring his usable, shaky hand up to grip her hair-

            Paige gave him one more push, and stepped away.

            Tony’s heart leapt at the sudden loss of balance, slamming his hand down to the wood and kicking his legs out in a desperate effort to stabilize himself.  The windowsill was now soaked with his blood as well as water, and he couldn’t get a grip.  Tony’s body leaned further backwards, rain now hitting his face, still scrabbling in a panic at the edge of the window.

            He saw Paige’s face split into a grin as his grip faltered and tumbled out of the second story window.

            Not even a second passed before he hit the ground on his back, bouncing slightly, the dull thud of his body on the wet earth drowned out by the cracking of more bones than his mind could register.  His head slammed against the ground, vision flashing in blinding colors.  Blood flooded into his nose and mouth, and he choked.

            He lied twitching in the grass, knife embedded so deep into his back he thought it might be flush with the ground.  He tried to inhale and had to cough instead, gagging up more blood, pain jolting through him with every hack.  By reflex, he pressed his hand weakly to the wound on his stomach to try and slow his death, frigid rain contrasting with hot blood pulsing out under his fingertips. 

Tony’s breath came in short, choppy gasps, struggling through the coppery fluid surging up from something severed inside of him.  He stared up at the near-black sky, too agonized and shattered to do anything more than blink against the rain; he closed his eyes.  All he could concentrate on was keeping from inhaling more blood than air at this point.

            The back door’s hinges creaked and it slammed closed.  Tony opened his eyes to find Paige sitting herself down beside him, smiling warmly. 

            “I’m glad you finally decided to cooperate.”  She reached out, gently running her hand through his wet hair.  “Was that so hard, dear?”

Tony tried to sigh, succeeding only in a shaking exhale cut short by a new mouthful of blood.

Her hands on his jaw, lifting his head slightly as she kissed him again, gently this time, blood running from the corners of his mouth.  He couldn’t find the strength to respond.  Paige pulled away, and Tony’s attention focused to the smudges of red staining her lips, quickly washed away by the rain pelting them both. 

Pain was beginning to dull with shock, and the sensations of his individual injuries were blending together into one vague ache.  His organs had probably ruptured from the fall, and vessels were likely torn; his body was shutting down.  Keeping the blood out of his airway was getting more difficult, and he couldn’t predict if he’d drown or bleed out first.  He didn’t really care.  His eyes were open, but darkness edged into his vision.  

Paige scritched at the facial hair on his jawline.  It might have even felt pleasant if he wasn’t dying.

“Now see?  Isn’t this nice?  And I didn’t even have to drug you like you thought.” 

Blood bubbled and splashed from his mouth with another weak choke.  His hand slipped away from the gash in his middle to lie limply at his side.

Tony listened to the rain as his life left him.

**Author's Note:**

> Paige pulled him forward slightly, back inside, and stood on her toes. She leaned in, past his face, lips nearly touching to his ear.  
> "Long live the king" She whispered, and gave him a shove.


End file.
